


(You Turn Me Into) Somebody Loved

by secretschuylersister



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: F/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, this is written in the second person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 01:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11956407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretschuylersister/pseuds/secretschuylersister
Summary: All things considered, you’re probably not the first person to find your soulmate after spotting their signature on somebody's cast. The magic of that moment doesn’t fix everything, but it fixes enough.





	(You Turn Me Into) Somebody Loved

You had pictured the first day of your senior year more times than you could count. You envisioned making the familiar drive, walking into a school you knew like the back of your hand, and finishing high school with the same people you started it with. The beginning of a year full of stress and fun and college applications and parties.

None of those visions looked like this: sitting in your car outside of a new school half an hour before the first bell, your thighs sticking to the seat while you tried to work up the nerve to walk inside. Your nails scratched at the leather of the steering wheel while you took a few deep breaths and let yourself run the numbers again. You ghosted your hand over the name scrawled just under your collarbone, the one that had appeared like clockwork on your sixteenth birthday. The one that belonged to your soulmate.

_Connor._

According to the (probably inaccurate) website you had found, there were currently 1,627 people in the country named Connor. 28 of them lived in your state. 1 of them could be found in your town.

The odds of that Connor being _your_ Connor was small. Infinitesimal, really. There was a Connor who worked at the grocery store near your old house and another who went to the same camp as you every summer since you were ten. Neither of those people were your soulmate and there was no reason to believe this one would be, either. Your soulmate might not even live in the same country as you, and how could you possibly work out _those_ numbers? It was a comforting thought, though. That someone was waiting for you to make this all a little less intimidating, more of a journey than a punishment. And wasn't there something that felt a little different today, in some quiet way you couldn't pin down? Still...your soulmate was probably miles and years away.

You heaved another sigh and looked out across the parking lot. Other people would start showing up soon, you knew, and a crowd wasn’t going to make this any easier. With that thought, you grabbed your bag and swung open your car door, narrowly missing a jumpy looking kid in a blue shirt.

“I’m so sorry! I wasn’t paying attention at all and–oh hey, you live across the street from me, right?” you asked, vaguely recognizing the boy with his arm in a cast.

“No, no, it’s completely fine! You didn’t even hit me, so, it’s fine! And I think so, too! I definitely recognize you. I’m Evan,” the boy in question blurted out all at once, speaking a mile a minute and extending his good hand to shake yours.

You smiled inwardly, thinking he seemed nice and somehow even more nervous than you were. You introduced yourself and asked him if he would point you in the direction of the office so you could pick up your schedule. You hoped you had a class or two with him, it would be nice to have a sort-of-friend already.

It wasn’t until the end of the day that you saw Evan again. You had just left the school’s main office after dropping off your signed schedule to prove you had managed to find your way to all your classrooms, and the sweet secretary had held you up for a few minutes asking all about your first day. By the time you started to make your way out of the building, most of the school had emptied out and the hallways were clear, which only served to make a tall boy you hadn’t seen before nearly knocking you over in his haste to get out of the computer lab seem all the more dramatic.

You absently wondered where he was going in such a hurry when Evan slammed right into you, calling after whoever had just marched out of the room.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” you tried to joke, steadying your neighbor who seemed borderline distraught. “Hey, are you okay?”

Evan shook his head and gestured down the hallway with his broken arm, sputtering something about a letter. It was then that your eyes zeroed in on his cast. There was a name scrawled across it and though it was larger and more rushed than the letters currently etched on your skin, there was no mistaking the handwriting. Whoever wrote that, whichever _Connor_ wrote that, was your soulmate.

“Evan, who signed your cast?” you interrupted. You knew you were being awful and rude and completely insensitive to this kid who was spiraling himself, but something in your gut made you feel frantic. You had to get to Connor.

“You’ve already met him,” he answered, the sarcasm in his voice clearly surprising you both. “He just took off.”

Of course it was the boy who was currently storming out of the building because why _wouldn’t_ the universe want you to have to break into a dead sprint to catch up with him? You yelled some sort of apology (you hoped) at Evan and ran off down the hallway, praying Connor would still be in sight. Luck or fate or Connor’s surprisingly slow speed was on your side that afternoon because you could make out his form across the student lot.

“Connor! Connor, wait up!”

You let out a sigh of relief when he paused at his name. He turned to look at you and stayed in place as you awkwardly jogged the rest of the way to where he stood. He narrowed his eyes, probably trying to figure out who the lunatic who knew his name was.

“Who are you and how do you know my name?” he asked and you started to laugh. Maybe this soulmate stuff ran deeper than you thought. Could you read his mind?

His face changed from slightly suspicious to completely closed off in a nanosecond and you paled as he turned on his heel to walk away. You really didn’t want to blow this whole relationship before you even introduced yourself.

“I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you!” you promised, putting your hand on his arm to stop him. “I just...well, I know you because you’re kind of my soulmate. I’m pretty sure. Positive, actually. I saw your name on Evan’s cast, so unless Evan was lying...well, I’m your gal.”

You cringed at yourself as soon as you heard the words leaving your mouth. You’re his “gal”? Jesus, this was not your smoothest moment. You would have been relieved when Connor moved on without commenting on your weird introduction if he hadn’t looked so angry.

“Look, I don’t even fucking know you, so whoever the hell put you up to this-”

“Put me up to what?” you interjected. You had no idea where this guy’s hostility was coming from but the last thing you needed was him thinking this was some kind of prank. You tugged your shirt down to show him your soulmark. “Look.”

His eyes shot down to your collarbone and jumped back up to your face, the shock written all over his expression.

“I know, right? Kind of trippy. Can I see my name? Or is it somewhere weird?” you asked with a grin, relief lifting your heart when you saw him give the smallest of smiles in return. He was beautiful, a little.

The smile didn’t last long, his mouth returning to a tight line and his shoulders tensing. He started rifling through his battered messenger bag until he found what he was looking for: a notebook and a pen.

“Write down your name,” he instructed, shoving the items he held in your direction.

He really seemed to believe this was all an elaborate joke at his expense and the realization kind of broke your heart. What happened to this kid to make him so sure a complete stranger was out to humiliate him? You took the pen and did as he asked, noting the way his eyes widened when he saw your name written in your own handwriting. He snapped the notebook closed and stuffed it back in his bag, his knuckles turning white as he tightened his hands on the strap across his chest. His gaze focused for a brief moment on your still-exposed soulmark before he forced it away, looking at your face but not meeting your eyes.

“You should cover that up,” he said. He was trying to sound harsh, you could tell, but his heart wasn’t in it. “Nobody needs to see it and you can avoid all the shit you’ll get for being cosmically assigned to the school psycho.”

That explained all the skepticism and anger, you figured. He had problems at school. Well, now he’d have you, at least. Even if he didn’t want you.

“I don’t really care what anyone thinks about my soulmark,” you shrugged, and found that you really meant it. “Anybody but you, I guess. Can I see your mark now? It's okay if you don't want to show me, I'm just...I'm just curious, I guess.”

Connor furrowed his brow, more surprised than annoyed, and took off a black cuff that he wore around his wrist. There was your signature, right above his hand. You reached out to trace the lines of your name, and the sudden goosebumps on Connor’s arm made you smile.

“Nice,” you teased. “Very visible. More effective than any wedding band could be.”

“Yours isn’t exactly subtle either,” he smirked, his amusement fully reaching his eyes for the first time since you started talking. He looked like a different person.

“You're cute,” you told him and smiled wider as his face flushed. “And getting cuter. Do you have a ride home?”

“Nah, my sister drove this morning and she’s already gone. I'm just going to walk.”

“I have a car. I could give you a ride and we could get to know each other a bit. If you want, I mean. You don't have to-”

“No! I mean, shit, yes. I do want that,” he answered, cutting you off mid-ramble with a ramble of his own. “A ride. I’d like a ride. That’d be good, thanks.”

Something that felt suspiciously like butterflies kicked up in your stomach as you watched Connor climb into the passenger seat of your car. You barely knew this boy, but every part of you was screaming “ _it's him–we found him!_ ”

“Are you new?” Connor asked. “I can’t remember ever seeing you before, and if I had...I don’t know. I’d remember it.”

“Yeah, today was my first day,” you smiled. “I only lived the next town over, though.”

“Your parents made you move like, two minutes away in your last year of high school? That’s shitty,” he said. “Fuck, sorry. I don’t mean to be…”

He trailed off and you filled the silence with a soft chuckle.

“It’s fine, Connor. It _was_ shitty, but it’s whatever. Money stuff means a smaller house, and this is where that house is,” you shrugged and he nodded, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

The rest of the car ride carried on in a similar fashion. Someone asked a question, the other person answered. Once the two of you stopped stuttering over every other word, the conversation came as easily as breathing. Connor was funny in a way you didn't see coming and he kept you on your toes with unexpected questions. Every time one of your answers made him grin or smirk, it felt like you had won the best kind of prize. Eventually you turned onto his street and slowed to a stop in front of the house he pointed out, finding yourself wishing he lived further from the school so you could have talked longer.

“I guess I have to give you back now,” you teased.

“I’d rather stay in here with you, believe me.”

“Well, if you’re such a fan of my car, maybe you can visit it tomorrow morning. I can pick you up before school, you’re not that far from my house,” you lied. He lived across town, but you didn’t care. The early start was worth it.

He nodded and rubbed his hand roughly on the back of his neck.

“Cool, yeah.” Connor got out of your car and stopped himself before closing the door. “I’m more of a fan of the driver than the car. Just for the record.”

He didn’t look back after gently closing your car door and loping towards his house, which was definitely for the best. He didn’t need to see the goofy grin that had spread across your face.

You were outside of his place bright and early the next morning, and Connor was out the door almost as soon as your car came to a halt. He handed you coffee in a thermos and you had to bite your lip to fight off a repeat of yesterday’s dorky smile. You were going to offer to stop for coffee before school, but this was better (and the sight of Connor with a thermos? Adorable).

“You seem eager. Waiting for me at the window, huh?” you asked playfully, carefully watching his expression to make sure he knew you were just teasing.

“We didn’t exchange phone numbers, so unless you wanted to honk the horn at 6:30 in the morning, yeah. I had to wait.”

“Oh,” you said flatly, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“And this might be my way of asking for your number.”

“ _Oh_ ,” you said again, and Connor actually laughed at the change in your tone. It was a sound you wouldn’t mind hearing more of.

You did give him your number, and that was the start of your near constant stream of Connor. You drove to school together, sat together at lunch (and snuck as many texts as you could get away with during the day), drove home together, and then talked on the phone until one of you fell asleep. For Connor’s part, he still found himself blindsided that someone was not only spending so much of their time with him (and voluntarily, no less) but seemed to enjoy doing it.

Connor had given plenty of thought to what it would be like when he eventually met you. Finding your soulmate sounded like such a big deal when his parents talked about it, like Christmas and the Fourth of July combined. As a little boy, he guessed there must be fireworks and parades involved to mark the occasion. The older he got, the more he figured it would just involve a very disappointed person with his name stamped somewhere on their body, if he got a name at all. Neither scenario he dreamed up came close to the reality of the situation, and he had never been so happy to be proven wrong. There were no fireworks when you met your soulmate, it turned out. It was more like an illuminated pointing arrow: _Hey, you know all your shit? This is the person who's going to stick it out with you. This is the one who wants to be there to make it easier._

When Connor heard your voice calling his name for the first time, he was so sure you were about to give him hell for shoving that Evan kid or for some other infraction he wasn’t even aware he had committed. You didn't. Instead, you touched his arm and looked at him like he was made out of gold. He couldn't remember anyone looking at him that way before and he was overcome with the desperate need to keep it, to deserve it. He still didn't think he deserved it, but you were here and you were still looking at him like he was something special. He kept expecting that to wear off, but it hadn't happened yet.

When he thought about it, the trust you had started to put in Connor might have been the thing he was most proud of. It made him feel like maybe you were getting something out of this relationship, too, and you weren’t just stuck with him thanks to some accident of fate. He hadn’t known you for long, but he spent enough time studying your face to pick up on your little signals, like how you’d press your lips together and look past him before telling him something that was important to you. It always stirred something in his chest when you did it, a feeling between protectiveness and affection, and he’d sit up a little straighter so you knew he was listening. He took it seriously because he took _you_ seriously, and that wasn’t lost on you.

So when you did your lip-press-look-away thing that usually came before a long talk, Connor wasn’t expecting you to ask if he felt like going for a walk.

“Uh, alright. Why?” he asked, dragging out the last word.

“It’s not a trick question, Con,” you laughed. “I don’t know. It’s nice out and walking is good for you. I can show you my old house and stuff.”

The distance from Connor’s place to your old house wasn’t really all that far, but neither of you made much of an effort to get there in a hurry. You liked the way he’d roll his eyes but smile every time you called a detour down a back road or into a convenience store an “adventure” and he liked the way you genuinely _did_ treat everything like it was an exciting new discovery. Really, it was just nice to be out together, enjoying one of the last warm days of the season.

As you walked, you pointed out your old school and the park where you had your first kiss back when you were in seventh grade, and finally found your way to your old house. You felt a little sad looking at it, but pushed that back and grinned at Connor.

“How are your fence jumping skills?” you asked him.

“Exemplary,” he deadpanned. “Why do you ask?”

“There’s something I want to show you, but it requires some light breaking and entering.”

“Well, if it’s only _light_ breaking and entering.”

Behind your old house, there was a fenced off patch of woods where you spent most of your time playing as a kid. You thought it might have technically been town property, but that hadn’t stopped you before and you wanted Connor to see it, so fence jumping it was. Besides, you were pretty sure Connor Murphy wasn’t a complete stranger to rule breaking despite his scandalized tone.

You snuck into the woods unseen through the back of the property, and laughed when Connor kissed you after you made your jump. It wasn’t the first time he had kissed you, but it still hadn’t lost it’s novelty. He had been so hesitant to touch you at first that every time he initiated contact your heart soared.

“Come on,” you said, leading him towards what you brought him there to see.

When you made it to the tree that held the tree-house you had built back in elementary school, you had to laugh. It was falling apart after years of being rained and snowed on, and it hadn’t been very good to begin with. You told Connor the story of how you had dragged out wood and nails one summer and built what you considered a palace at the time.

“This is a pretty fucking poor showing, even for a ten year old,” he teased, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side to soften the joke even further.

“I know,” you laughed, hip checking him. “It was supposed to be something my dad and I did together, but he never had the time. I wanted my own tree-house _so_ badly that year. I got tired of waiting and tried to do it myself.”

You could feel the change in Connor instantly; the regret he felt about teasing you was palpable even though it clearly hadn't upset you. He looked back at the tree-house and tilted his head.

“On second thought, it’s pretty spectacular.” You snorted and he quickly continued. “I mean, you did it all by yourself. That’s fucking impressive. And like, yeah, it’s a little roughed up now, but it’s still up there.”

Your lips twitched into a smile at his words. Here was this boy, mostly sharp edges and cutting remarks to everyone else, talking up a terrible childhood project to spare your feelings. You could love him, you realized, and not in any vague “well, he's my soulmate so of course” kind of way. Something specific and concrete was building in your heart, feelings were growing and shifting and clearing room. Not for a concept, but a person. _This_ person. Connor.

His eyes were still on the tree-house but you were looking at him. For maybe the first time since you met, he didn't seem to be thinking ten steps ahead, ready to run or attack if it came to that. You hoped it was because he knew he'd never have to do either when he was with you.

“I'm glad I brought you here,” you said, cutting off his rambling compliments.

He looked at you, taken aback by the sincerity in your voice and how fondly you were looking at him. He swallowed and nodded, “Me too.”

Two weeks to the day, Connor was the one asking you to go for a walk. He wouldn’t tell you why he was bringing you back to your old neighborhood, but he had been nervously bouncing his leg all morning so you knew something was up. He helped you over the fence to your woods again, and you stopped short when you made it to your tree-house. Or what _had_ been your tree-house, more accurately.

Connor had rebuilt the old structure from the floor up and turned it into something that was actually safe to climb into and big enough to hold two teenagers. It had windows and a door and an actual ladder and your heart felt so full that you were surprised you weren’t floating away.

“Why did you do all this?” you asked after he brought you up and pointed out where he salvaged some of the weathered wood to use for the windows, thinking you might like to keep a piece of your original attempt. You were curled up on the floor of the tree-house and your head was right on his chest, his faint heartbeat nearly lulling you to sleep.

“You said you had always wanted something like this and I wanted you to get it. I want you to get everything you want.” His voice was so quiet and honest that you could have cried.

“I really love you, Connor.”

You hadn’t exchanged I love yous before that moment and maybe you were rushing things, but you knew in your bones that it was true. You loved him and you wanted him to know it. Connor sat up, giving you just enough time to get nervous before he broke into a rare toothy smile.

“I really fucking love you, too,” he replied.

You burst out laughing, partially at what a Connor response that was and partially out of relief that he felt the same way.

“That’s settled then,” you said with a lazy grin and took his hand as he reached to pull you up.

“This is probably dumb because, like, the soulmark and everything, but I really want us to be a real thing. If that’s something you want?” he said, making a statement but handing it to you like a question.

“Are you asking me to be your girlfriend, Murphy? You’re not being very clear,” you said, not intending to make this easy on him.

Connor rolled his eyes and pulled you closer to him by your waist. “Yeah, that’s what I’m asking.”

“I don’t know. What kind of dowry are you offering here?”

“I didn’t realize we were medieval farmers, and the bride is the one who-”

You cut Connor off with a kiss, and you could feel him smile against your lips before pulling away.

“Yeah, I guess I’ll be your girlfriend,” you answered, crinkling your nose.

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

Once you and Connor had official titles, it wasn’t long before you dragged him home to meet your family. He was fidgety but polite (your eyes nearly bugged out of your head when you opened the door to find him holding flowers for your mom with his hair pulled back in a neat knot) and you could see he was trying hard to be the person it was so easy for him to be when you two were alone. Your parents liked him right away and you thought it meant a lot to him to have people welcome him into their lives without, like, the intervention of destiny or whatever it was that put your names on each other. Connor eventually introduced you to his family, too, but mostly he brought you upstairs to his room to listen to music or talk or just lounge around together away from his parents and sister.

Connor seemed to crave the companionship you had fallen into, and you were only too happy to give it to him. In some ways your relationship was fast, instant. One minute you didn’t know Connor and then you did. He showed up, angry and closed off, and now he was one of the most important people in your life. It was slow in the ways that mattered, though, and you were glad for it. Every day you learned a bit more about each other. He knew your favorite book, you knew he hated mushrooms, you both swapped weekly playlists and made fun of the other’s taste in music. And then there was the deeper stuff: the way he felt out of control sometimes. The strained relationship with his family and the unfair way he treated his sister. The scary thoughts he had when he was at his lowest points.

You couldn’t fix those things and he never asked you to, but you could help him _find_ help. You put your arms around him and promised you’d figure something out together, and that’s exactly what you did. There were free groups he thought were stupid but attended anyway, you by his side and one of his hands held tightly between both of yours. There were dinners with his his mom and movie nights with Zoe. Both were awkward at first but slowly morphed into a routine you knew everyone involved grew to appreciate. There were things Connor figured out helped in small ways: sticking to a schedule, getting exercise, eating well. It wasn’t the only kind of help he needed and you both knew it, so it was a huge relief when a discussion with Zoe led to a discussion between them and their mom, and the combined efforts of both Murphy siblings were enough to finally get Connor the help he deserved.

There were setbacks, of course, but he had made such strides in the last few months. You had seen that progress with your own eyes, so when Connor started seeming a little distant as graduation approached, you were only the usual amount of concerned a girlfriend would be. Looking at your unanswered goodnight text, you didn’t let yourself blow it out of proportion. Maybe he had just fallen asleep, or maybe he needed a little space. Your hand drifted to where Connor’s name was inscribed on your skin, and knew that you’d be able to sense it if it was a catastrophe and not just another setback. It was fine and you’d see him tomorrow at school.

You didn’t see him tomorrow at school. You did see Zoe, however, which allowed you to breathe a little easier. She wouldn’t have been at school if there was anything seriously wrong. You nearly dropped your phone in relief when a text from Connor came in.

**_“Sorry, not feeling great. Talk later.”_ **

It gave nothing away, but just hearing from him was like a hundred pounds of weight falling away.  You had resolved to give him the rest of that weekend to work out whatever he was feeling, but as you tossed and turned on Friday night, you were less and less sure that you were making the right call. By the time late Saturday afternoon rolled around, you couldn’t take it anymore and hopped into your car.

When you knocked on the Murphys’ front door, it was Zoe who answered.

“He’s not home,” she said, looking at you with a sympathetic frown. “He went out this morning and said he wouldn’t be home until later.”

You thanked her and turned to leave when she hesitantly called your name. “I know my brother has been better since he met you, but these last few days—he's back to being...I don't know what he is. He can be scary when he gets like this. I wouldn't go looking for him.”

You nodded, understanding why she felt that way. You knew she had a tense relationship with her brother and things were still a little rocky there. Seeing the Murphys interact with Connor was usually uncomfortable and sometimes a little sad. It was so obvious to you that they loved him but had no idea what to make of him, and to Connor, that uncertainty had always felt like disdain. At some point a wall was built that they hadn't yet figured out how to break down. For you, it was different. Meeting Connor was like finding yourself in a brand new country and realizing you somehow already spoke the language. Your choices were much simpler: Connor needed you, so you’d be there.

You had no idea what was going on with your boyfriend, but you had a good idea of where he might be. You got behind the wheel of your car and made the last minute decision to stop somewhere to buy him lunch. If he'd been gone all day, he almost certainly hadn’t eaten, and an empty stomach on top of everything else never helped anyone. Things were easier for Connor when he slept and ate regularly, you knew. You couldn't do anything about the sleeping, but food you could handle.

It took you less time than usual to get to the treehouse and up the wooden ladder, and you smiled a bit when Connor was on his feet the second he saw you to help you get in. He seemed a little surprised at your arrival, and some part of you wondered if this was a test he didn't know he was giving you. He wouldn’t have gone to your treehouse if he hadn’t truly wanted to be found and the way he hugged you made you think he wasn’t sure if you’d miss him enough to come looking. He should have known better than that. No matter how lost he got, you would always come find him. There was no question of that.

“I grabbed you a sandwich and some water,” you said, holding up the bag and you were glad when he thanked you and started eating without having to be pressed.

You gave him a minute to eat before you broke the silence.

“So, what’s going on?” you asked.

It was clear you were talking about more than just this afternoon and Connor fiddled with the wrapper on his bottle of water before he started to speak.

“Your life would be easier without me,” he blurts out and you pale, his statement just ambiguous enough to make your stomach sink. “No, I'm not talking about...I just mean if you were with someone else. You don't _have_ to be with me, there’s no law that says you have to stay with your soulmate. Soulmates actually split all the time. Things have gotten so much better since you came along, but I'm still me and I still have all my shit. Meeting you wasn't a magic fix...I wanted it to be. For me, but for you, mostly. I'm still fucked up. I'm still going to do shitty things. I’m still _doing_ shitty things.”

“Yeah,” you shrug and his eyes shoot up to meet yours. “You're going to do shitty things and I'm going to like you anyway. _I'm_ going to do shitty things and you're going to like _me_ anyway. Then we'll say we’re sorry and work on being less shitty to each other next time.”

“But if you were with someone else, it wouldn't have to be like that. You'd be happier. I don’t think anybody could be good enough for you,” he said, lightly rubbing his thumb across your knuckles. “But you could get a hell of a lot closer than me.”

“Life wouldn't be perfect no matter who I was with, Connor. And even if you created some imaginary flawless human, it still wouldn't be what I would want, because that person wouldn't be _you_.”

“And what’s so great about me?” he asked with a quiet, humorless laugh. “I'm the guy whose girlfriend has to track him down to make sure he hasn't done anything stupid that day. Is that what you want the rest of your life to be? Taking care of a burden?”

“Is that really how you see yourself?” you ask. “Because that's not who you are.”

Your mind started to go over the year you and Connor had spent together. When he said that meeting your soulmate wasn't a magic fix, he was right. When you finally laid eyes on the boy with the chipped nail polish and beat up messenger bag, time didn't stop. No choir started to sing and neither of your problems flew away on a breeze. But there _was_ magic. It was in that moment of recognition: you’re my person, and you’re going to go on being my person for a long time. It was in every moment you tried to make the other’s baggage a little lighter by grabbing a side. And wasn't that better? Having someone who saw you for exactly who you are and still wanted to stay?

You thought of one particularly rough night you had a few months ago and started talking.

“Do you remember that night when my grandma got really sick? And when I texted you about what was happening, you drove right to the hospital without me even having to ask? You stayed all night and in the morning, you went and bought breakfast for me _and_ my mom because you knew neither of us would be leaving and you didn’t want us to have to eat gross hospital food. Does that sound like a burden to you?”

“No,” he reluctantly admitted.  “But that was just one night-”

“It wasn’t just one night, Connor. It’s not just one thing. You bring me coffee every morning. You’re the one who orders the food for us because you know I hate doing it. You ask me for my opinion on _everything_ and you actually listen to what I’m saying. You’re the guy who tossed me a chapstick and said you noticed I was low so you bought me a new one. Because you pay attention. The details matter to you. I mean, Connor, you're the boy who built me this tree-house. From the second I saw my name on your wrist, I haven't felt alone even once. You make my life better in a million ways, big and small. I'm _so_ lucky that the universe gave me you.”

He closed his eyes as you said that and you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips. He slowly opened his eyes back up and kissed your forehead and then your cheek and then returned the kiss on your lips, making you laugh lightly.

“I'm sorry if I scared you.”

“You didn't,” you replied as you tucked yourself under his arm, and your confidence in him made him relax his shoulders and tighten his grip on you all at once. “I just don't want you to feel like you have to be alone when things are bad. You and I are sticking it out, long haul. Unfortunate for you, really, because I think when we get to our forties, I'm going to be a real brat.”

“You’re a brat _now_ ,” he quipped.  You could feel the laugh vibrate in Connor’s chest, and he enjoyed the lightened mood for a minute before getting a little serious again. “Could you see us being like this forever? Like, how we are right now?”

“In the tree-house? I mean, you’d need to insulate the walls and work on plumbing, but sure,” you teased.

Connor let out a loud laugh and tickled your sides, making you squirm and slap his chest.

“Not in the tree-house, but in _some_ kind of house together. Or an apartment. After graduation, I mean.”

“Is this about me going away to college?” you asked carefully.

When your acceptance letters had started coming in, the reality of life after high school started sinking in for Connor for the first time. His grades had gone up exponentially in the last year (actually showing up for class would do that, apparently), but they weren’t going to get him into any of the schools you were applying to.  He was embarrassingly proud of you for getting into your first pick college and he honestly loved hearing you talk about what classes you were hoping to take, but the two of you danced around the fact that you’d be long distance when neither of you wanted to be. You were looking forward to meeting new people and having new experiences, but you wanted Connor right along for the ride.

“It’s about _us_ going away to college,” he said nervously. “You know my plans were to go somewhere near town and get my grades up to transfer, but I did some research and there’s a community college not far from your school where I could do the same thing. And an off-campus apartment is actually cheaper than student housing, so I thought maybe we could find a place together. It’s completely up to you, of course. I genuinely wouldn’t be upset if you’re not into it.”

The fear that you wouldn’t want him tagging along with you dissipated as Connor saw you smile and your eyes light up as he explained his idea.

“Yes!” you answered without even having to think about it. “You’d really do that? Connor, our own apartment, I can’t wait! This makes me a million times more excited to graduate.”

Connor quickly pulled out his phone to show you some of the places he had bookmarked, and you were surprised to feel your eyes getting a little watery. Connor planning for _any_ kind of future warmed you from the inside out, because you knew that hadn’t always been a given for him. The fact that he wanted you to be part of it was icing on the cake.

You rested your head on his shoulder as he flipped through pictures of little apartments with old kitchens and ugly carpets. You looked at the tree-house you were sitting in and remembered how Connor built something so beautiful out of nothing. He had a knack for that, you thought, turning your focus back to the boy next to you who was promising that a little paint and elbow grease would go a long way.

You couldn’t wait to see where the two of you would find yourselves next. You had a good feeling about it.


End file.
